


From the Darkness into Light

by mariothellama



Series: Marco and Mario [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, Established Relationship, Fear, M/M, first time in starting XI in home stadium, gentle non-explicit making love, love and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8184034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/mariothellama
Summary: The game against Freiburg will be Mario's first time in the starting XI since coming back. Mario is scared. Marco feels guilty because he is still injured and can't be there on the pitch for his Mario. But Marco, as always, is still there to support Mario, before the match, watching in the stand and at home afterwards.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Dear Sunny_Durmki
> 
> I nearly gifted you my first ever Götzeus as you inspired it and you love them so much. I didn't as I wasn't sure if you would like it and thought it might be intrusive. But this one is for you. It was written for you as I had the idea but hadn't been sure about writing it until I read your message. Then it suddenly seemed exactly the right thing to write.

Marco kissed Mario one last time as he left their home for the hotel where the team would gather for breakfast. This was a kiss that was meant to keep Mario going until they could be together again, a kiss full of love and support, of fierce pride and total 100% belief and conviction.

This time they would be together again in not much over twelve hours, nothing like the terrible long weeks they had had to be apart over the past three years. But for Mario the day ahead stretched out like an eternity. And today Marco really, really hated the fact that he was injured. He should be with Mario. He should be in the dressing room with Mario. He should be walking out onto the pitch with Mario. Today of all days. The first time that Mario would be in the starting XI for a home game since his return.

Marco held Mario’s face between his hands, touching their foreheads together. ‘I’ll be there watching you, supporting you, willing you on. And after, I’ll be there for you. I promise. Today and forever, come what may.’

‘I know, Marco. And that will give me the strength to get through today. No matter what happens. Your love. And your belief in me.’

***

It was after 8.15 that evening. Mario kept looking at his phone, waiting for the message that he so hoped would come before he had to leave the dressing room. This stadium had been his home from home for so many years, where he had been loved and celebrated. But tonight was different. He had a dark, heavy, sick feeling in his stomach. He had no idea if the Süd would shout out his name or whistle jeeringly when his name was announced in the stadium. He had no idea what reception he would get out there on the pitch.

Of course the message came perfectly on time. Marco knew this schedule down to the last detail.

_I always did think you looked hot in yellow_

Mario smiled, the tension broken. Marco always knew exactly the right thing to say to him at exactly the right moment.

Their captain looked at him and asked questioningly, ‘Marco?’

Mario nodded, a sudden lump in his throat, and they walked out together with their arms round each other’s shoulders.

Mario had done this so many times before, but it had never felt like this before. He paused and read the words over the top of the stairs. Words that he had taken for granted, but which now meant so much to him: _Unser ganzes Leben, Unser ganzer Stolz_ ; our whole life, all our pride. And then down the steep narrow stairs into the black gloom of the tunnel, the noise and bright lights of the packed stadium ahead.

And then it was time. Marco smiled at the small child standing next to him, squeezing his hand for good luck, and they ran out into the light, the night sky lit up like broad daylight by the massive stadium floodlights.

And it was glorious. More than he could ever have imagined. To be back. In black and yellow. Playing before 81,000 people. And one of them, up there, watching Mario’s every move was Marco. The only thing that could ever be better than this would be the day that they could stand on this pitch together.

When Mario was substituted off, he raised his hands in gratitude to the crowd. He sat in his seat, shaking with relief and the force of the adrenalin coursing through his veins. This was wonderful. Victory made it sweeter. But while part of him wanted to savour every second of the experience, part of him wanted it to be over as soon as possible. To be able to share it with Marco, without whom it meant nothing.

Mario had never showered so quickly, barely even taking the time to style his hair. Their team mates who knew them well smiled. They knew that Mario needed to be with his Marco. They took the risk of hugging briefly in the VIP carpark, Mario burying himself in Marco’s strong arms while Marco gently stroked his hair. And then they drove home, as fast as Marco was allowed to drive legally.

***

Marco lay on his front on the bed, naked, the silver light of the moon’s rays playing across his pale skin. Mario sat beside him, lightly tracing the lines of his tattoos with his forefinger. Hakuna matata. No worries. Mario smiled. That was _so_ Marco. But inking it on your skin didn’t make it come true. They both knew that. Real problems couldn’t be solved by inspirational quotes.

Mario bent and gently kissed the back of Marco’s neck and across the strong muscles of his narrow back. He felt Marco begin to sigh, the tension leaving his body. Marco had been as worried as Mario today. Perhaps more so as all he could do was watch. And if Mario had got a rough reception, then Marco, Dortmund born and bred, Borussia to his bones, would have felt somehow responsible.

Mario kissed down Marco’s spine, mouthing gentle, wet kisses over the soft skin. He traced the line of Marco’s ribs, all too visible under the skin, with his tongue. He lingered with his tongue in the sensitive dip at the base of Marco’s spine, which made Marco start to moan quietly. And then Mario traveled lower with his tongue, licking across Marco’s entrance, feeling Marco begin to moan in earnest. Tonight was about slow tender lovemaking, about being together, about becoming one, and Mario wanted to prepare Marco in the gentlest, most intimate way possible.

Once he was sure that Marco was totally relaxed, he turned him on his right side, holding him close, bending his left leg and moving it in front of his body, making sure that it was totally safe and secure. Placing a series of small light kisses on the back of Marco’s neck, where the hair was short and soft enough to delightfully tickle Mario’s nose, he entered Marco from behind. This wasn’t hard or urgent, Mario was barely moving, more rocking their bodies together in wave after wave of rhythmic pleasure, using the arm he had wrapped tightly round Marco to rock Marco back against his body. When he knew Marco was close, he used his hand to bring him to his climax, before gently pulling out, finishing himself against the curve of Marco’s buttocks.

After he had lovingly washed him clean, Mario held Marco in his arms as he slept, listening to the sound of Marco breathing, the most beautiful sound in the world to him right now, better than a stadium of people cheering for him. Mario knew that there were still so many challenges ahead. The biggest one, the most important one, would be Marco being whole and healthy again.

And the road ahead was tough, Mario knew that he had chosen the toughest path. His football career had been glittering. He had won nearly everything. But this past year, as everything he touched turned to dust, that had seemed more and more meaningless. Mario was a realist. He knew at the end of the season Bayern would have one, two, maybe three trophies again. And his Borussia most likely none. But they would fight for that.

He had been too naïve, too young to appreciate what they had achieved the first time round. But now he knew. Now he understood what Marco had always said, that to win one trophy with Dortmund was worth more than anything. And to do the one important thing he had never achieved, to win a trophy with his Marco, would be the sweetest victory of all. And if it never happened? Well that didn’t really matter. Mario had won the most important victory of his whole life. He was home. His beloved Marco was sleeping in his arms. They would never have to be apart again. And that was worth more than any cabinet full of glittering trophies.


End file.
